Dr Getrude's favourite line hit me like a brick. I had been coming to her for two months now and every week when she asked me that I dismissed her with one vague variation of ‘it makes me feel normal’. But right there and then in that moment. I didn't feel normal. I felt...

"Invisible." 

"Invisible?" She looked up at me, eyes keen with interest like I had surprised her. Which was unlikely since she was a shrink and everyone probably said that to her. 

"I know I have a home and a room and a bed and everything but I can't help but feel like I don't belong there. But...I also don't belong at my old house anymore."

Dr Getrude nodded her head as if to say ‘continue little bacteria I have increased my magnification on this shiny new microscope of mine’. But despite her scrutiny I pushed through and continued. I had already started and for some reason I couldn't stop..

"If I don't belong in my new house and I don't belong at my old house then I must not hold space because I am virtually invisible. I don't even matter anymore. It's like they have all forgotten me and I can't do anything about it. Someone else sits in my chair now. Someone else will sleep in my old house too. And sooner or later I will just vanish into the air a lost memory of disintegrated atoms. And not a memory you can feel on the tip of the tongue, no. One you won't ever remember forgetting. A listless tune in the wind." 

"Would you like some water?" Dr Gettude said after my long depressive rant. 

Her question was so unexpected and out of place that I burst out laughing. And she just sat there looking at me, face poised into a flawless mask despite me cackling like a madman infront her. I guess I was a mad man. After all she was my therapist. 

I lifted up my left hand and swept a tear from under my eye. It wasn't from laughing. I looked up at Dr Gertrude and wondered what she would say if I told her what I was thinking. 

"What are you thinking of?" Dr Getrude asked, always on the money. 

I stared at her but I didn't reply. What I was thinking of was some article I had read somewhere. It said when a person cries and their tear drops from the centre of the eyelid instead of the corner where the tear duct is it means they were in pain. How ironic was that, I was in pain but it took Dr Getrude's blank stare and about 50 of her ‘how does that make you feel?’ for me to realise it. 

"That, If I disappear into nothingness everything will still stay the same." I answered instead. 

"Josiah." Dr Getrude's voice was soft and her mask dropped revealing a shock at the edges of her face. She cleared her throat and the mask was back on like nothing had even happened. I guess I would be shocked too if I suddenly spoke to my sick patient in a voice that's anything but monotone and soothing. "You hold space. You do! And you have the ability to take up even more space. To ground your roots further in so you can stay firmly in place." 

"And what guarantee do I have that another fire won't come and take it all away again. Isn't it like building a sand Castle on the beach. Nomatter how much you wish for it to stay in place the tide will come and wash it away. Even if you build it 59 times the tide will come and wash it away 59 times and it will come one more time to make sure its swept the place clean. Like you were never there." 

"Yes, but your memories will still belong to you. The time you spent building the sand Castle." 

"So all I will have is a reminder of how foolish I was?" 

"No, all you will have is a memory of how much fun you had building the Castles and maybe just maybe you will have enough memories to help you build it up again before the tide comes through."

"You can take up space. It doesn't have to be something life-altering but you can take up space. All you need to do is remember how happy you were when you took up enough space and you will find the courage to do it again." 

I watched Dr Getrude and scoffed at her logic. Me, consequential insignificant me? Take up space. Right, as if I could do that. I couldn't even get my body to cooperate with me in public and she wanted me to climb Mt Everest. She must be thinking of her other patients. 

"I want you to do something that scares you this week. It can be small. It can be big. As long as it scares you. Then we will talk some more about the whole not belonging thing." 

I nodded. 

"You don't have to try to talk to someone I know you are not there yet, but...Try doing something out of the box." 

"Ok." Dr Getrude offered me water and made me drink it with one look. I rolled my eyes and gulped the contents of the glass until it was gone.

She looked at me and with a small sigh, I stood up and left her office. Off to the big world where everyone had a different theory why they had never heard my voice. Can you feel the joy? I know, I can't find it too.